


Man at work

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Active Imaginations, Daisy on the Run, Day 2, F/M, Objectified Coulson, RST, Skoulson RomFest 2k16 REDUX, UST, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7624261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'I must have been alone for longer than I thought if I’m objectifying Coulson,' Daisy thought, watching him wipe the sweat from his brow.</p><p>Okay, maybe it wasn't that unusual for her. She obviously respected him and knew not to cross any boundaries when they worked together, but what could she say? She got it, pretty much from day one. It was just a matter of letting herself think about him in that (inappropriate, insubordinate, way-too-tempting) way. Which she hadn’t done, not really.</p><p>Until now. </p><p>SkoulsonFest2k16 Redux--Day 2: Undercover</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man at work

**Author's Note:**

> AKA the fic in which I continue to objectify the fuck out of Coulson.

The first one she didn’t think much of.

Daisy was leaving the hospital--sneaking out, really, after being patched up. “Thanks,” she told the nurse, who was watching the hall for her before waving her away.

“Please stop coming to me,” she said, exasperated. Daisy pursed her lips in an awkward smile.

“No promises,” she said honestly, and the other woman sighed, looking away. She felt bad, even if they weren’t exactly frequent visits. She didn’t want to get anyone in trouble at their job, but finding someone who would patch her up, no questions asked?

It was hard to quit, especially when things were...rough. Daisy winced, placing a hand over the stitches on her side through the thick sweatshirt. It was probably the worst one yet. Daisy wasn’t going to turn herself in anytime soon, but things on the run were getting pretty hairy.

 _Might need to lie low somewhere further away,_ she thought, grimacing as she turned a corner down an empty hallway. She didn’t like to venture too far, but if it meant less running and fewer close calls, she would take the chance. Even if just for a couple days.

Halfway to the emergency stairs, _he_ stepped out of a room. _Shit_. Daisy just barely managed to duck into the room behind her before he saw. She almost didn’t recognize him, just seeing the scrubs and not processing beyond that right away. _What is he doing here?_

She frowned. Was SHIELD reassigning him? As far as they knew, she was in the midwest right now, so he couldn’t be after her. Walking further into the room she sat on the edge of the bed with her back facing the door. Pulling her hood up, she watched for his reflection on the window. She probably should have hidden somewhere, completely out of view. She should have, but she didn't.

“Excuse me?” He asked, and Daisy saw him standing in the doorway. Her breath caught in her throat, and she realized how much she regretted that she couldn’t see his face clearly in the dark glass (While out of necessity hoping that the distorted view was mutual.)

“Hey,” another voice called, and Daisy recognized it instantly.

 _Thank you,_ she thought, watching her reluctant aid enter the doorway.

“Are you new on the rotation?” She asked, and Coulson nodded, gesturing to his name tag. But before he could say anything, the other nurse, the _real one_ , held up a hand. “Good, I need your help over here, let’s go.” She walked briskly down the hall, and after sparing Daisy’s back one last look, Phil followed.

Letting out a breath Daisy let their voices fade before walking to the door. Peeking down the hall she saw them, too far for him to notice anything amiss.

She allowed herself one last look, noting how odd it was to see Coulson dressed like that. She wished she could have seen his face, but before she let that thought get away from her, Daisy sneaked into the stairwell.

 

***

 

Putting down her binoculars, Daisy watched curiously from the third floor window she had perched behind. _That’s...interesting._

Seeing Coulson casual was one thing. Seeing him dressed in short sleeves and _shorts_?

Bringing the binoculars up to her eyes again Daisy watched him carry the package to the door, looking him over. He looked healthier than the last time she’d seen him, so she hoped someone was cracking down on making him take care of himself.

Or who knows? Maybe it was doing him some good to be on a different case than her own. The truck was definitely more than it seemed; she was pretty sure UPS trucks didn’t park in the same place every day for a week. She’d think they were staking her out if she herself wasn’t keeping an eye on the building across the street. And seeing as he finally emerged from the truck, now it seemed that they were moving in.

_Looks like we’re working together again._

Unbeknownst to him, yes, but the same case nonetheless.

“What’s in the box, Phil?” She muttered, watching him stand at the door.

Okay the shorts were _very_ odd. Daisy wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Coulson’s legs before. Maybe she’d caught him working out once or twice, but she couldn’t recall. Had she seen his knees? That was strange. And it’s not like knees were an especially scandalous body part.

It was a really warm summer day too, so even from her spot she could see that the guy was sweating. “No AC, AC?”

Chuckling at her own terrible joke--it got lonely sometimes, okay?-- she leaned a little further on the windowsill trying to get a better look.

At the box.

Down below, Phil adjusted his stance at the doorway, cocking his hip to one side. He was probably getting impatient (or trying to _look_ impatient) but all Daisy could think was how much this resembled a porno or six she’d seen before.

Of course she immediately felt terrible and inappropriate, picturing her friend and former boss like that. _Former_ being the key word there. Coulson rang the doorbell again, and Daisy wondered if it wasn’t a bit too warm wearing that hat. Maybe he should take it off, wipe the sweat that surely had formed on his forehead.

The uniform itself definitely didn’t look very breathable; if she squinted she was sure she could see the spot on his lower back where the sweat had darkened his shirt.

Coulson was too good an agent to visit the actual suspect, so the package in his hands was surely for a neighboring apartment. Probably a bug of some sort or infrared device disguised as something innocuous from a friend or family member. Cute decoration for the mantel, clock maybe. Pushing her hair to one side Daisy could feel the sweat pooling on the back of her neck. The empty apartment she’d managed to ‘rent’ from the sketchy landlord didn’t exactly come with air conditioning either.

Maybe the woman--was it a woman?-- Coulson was delivering to had AC. Maybe she would see the poor, sweltering delivery man with the kind eyes and defeated posture and let him come in and cool off for a second. She could offer him a lemonade, if people still did that, or a real drink, if he promised not to tell. He would raise an eyebrow and say something cheesy but still kind of flirty, like ‘I won’t if you won’t.’ Or, not wanting to drink on the job, see if there was anything _she_ was looking for.

“And you’re back on the porno track, Daisy.”

Rolling her eyes she took the binoculars down and blinked, trying to clear her suddenly dirty mind. Poor Coulson was probably out in that truck for days, hours at a time, just waiting for some small hint they could work with. Probably felt like a million degrees in there, she hoped he got to relax when his shift was over, peel those sweaty clothes off and take a nice cool shower in the empty locker room--

“O- _kay_ , Daisy,” she muttered, but brought the binoculars up once again. Perking up she saw Coulson take his hat off for a second, tucking the package under one arm.  _I must have been alone for longer than I thought if I’m objectifying Coulson,_ she thought, watching him wipe the sweat from his brow.

Well, maybe it wasn't that unusual for her. She obviously respected him and knew not to cross any boundaries when they worked together, but what could she say? She _got it,_ pretty much from day one. It was just a matter of letting herself think about him in that (inappropriate, insubordinate, way-too-tempting) way. Which she hadn’t done, not really.

Until now.

(And maybe a couple nights after she saw him dressed as a nurse but that was a dream and mostly involuntary. And the uniform in said dream was _not_ what he was wearing that night in the hospital. Definitely not regulation.)

Below, she could see Coulson’s shoulders slump. Looked like the neighbor wasn’t home. No bug-planting, no AC, no lemonade or sweaty delivery man sex on the couch because there was no way they would have time to make it to the bedroom and do it properly before her husband got home.

“That’s not right,” Daisy sighed. Coulson would never want to break up a marriage. Maybe it wasn’t a bored housewife, maybe it was a young single person in their first apartment on their own. Maybe going stir-crazy decorating all alone in an empty place in a new city, with no opportunity to go out and meet people. Not that anyone their age really knew how to do that anymore, past the bar-hopping phase but still too young to feel confident networking or whatever it was normal professionals did.

So they open their door, see this sweaty delivery guy and even though they know you should never invite strange men into your apartment, they make up some excuse to bring him in. Maybe a glass of water, maybe a question about his opinion on the decor, or maybe they’re forward, telling him that they want to get to know him and that the bedroom has air conditioning.

Coulson would probably alarmed; he’s just supposed to deliver the package and be forgotten. But maybe he’s been alone a lot lately too, and he has been sweating all day in that uniform, might be nice to get a quick break…

Daisy let out an embarrassed little laugh, as if this was all just a big joke. It’s not like she was _fantasizing_ or anything, just keeping entertained, right? And she couldn’t just run down there and talk to Coulson, which to be honest she _really_ wanted to do and it kind of killed her that she couldn’t.

She missed him, she really did. If she could, she would invite him up, let him know she was okay, see how his case was going and if he would tell her any of the info he had on her mark. He probably wouldn’t; he would probably give her that raised eyebrow or incredulous face he was so good at, like she should know she was asking a ridiculous question.

But she wasn’t like the theoretical neighbor. She didn’t have any cold drinks or air conditioning so she would just be inviting him up to sweat even more. She wouldn’t mind giving him some of her information, just enough to keep him safe. So they would probably lean over her laptop, in close proximity. He was wearing an undershirt under that uniform, right? Wouldn’t hurt him to take off a layer…

On the street below Coulson finally turned away from the door, looking up. Daisy ducked below the window, holding her breath. He was just looking up at the sun, right? There was no way he saw her up there. Crouching under the window Daisy felt the slight temperature change as she knelt down, her hands leaving sweaty prints on the wooden floor.

Still as could be she waited until she could hear the sound of his truck starting up again and driving away before daring to take another look. He was gone, at least for the day.

Leaning back against the wall, Daisy wiped at her face with the bottom of her tank top.

She needed to get a fan if she was going to stick around in this place. Or a less active imagination.

 

***

 

“ _Daisy_?”

“Are you _kidding me_?”

Waving Coulson in the door, Daisy stared at him incredulously. He walked in, looking a bit stunned. And...well, good. Really good.

“Why are you surprised, you called me!” Coulson hissed, looking at the closed door of the apartment, as if already expecting an ambush behind him. He paused, staring at her curiously. “How _did_ you call me?”

“That’s irrelevant, until we discuss this whole--” she waved her hand at his outfit. “Getup.”

“Daisy,” Coulson said incredulously, putting his toolkit down on the floor.

Okay, maybe not the first conversation they should have after a year, but what could she say? She was nervous.

“Maybe I need my pipes looked at,” she said, and Coulson started to look a little irritated which did not help matters. “Okay, okay, a little alien told me.”

Looking like he was caught between being happy to see her and wanting to bolt, Coulson shook his head. “Yo Yo?”

“I don’t reveal my sources,” she said, and he rolled his eyes. “Look, I just thought since things had settled down and we’re sort of looking at the same case we should...chat.”

Staring at her, bewildered, he put his hands on his hips, jostling his tool belt.

“Oh come _on_!” Daisy said, covering her eyes as if he had dropped trou. “What are you even wearing?”

Coulson looked down at his outfit, confused. Did he really have to wear flannel? Weren’t plumbers supposed to wear those big baggy jumpsuits or something? “What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” He asked, tugging at his shirt.

Walking over to her futon Daisy sat down, shaking her head. “What did you do to Talbot to make him give you all these crazy outfits?”

Phil’s eyes widened. Leaning back against the wall he watched her with a cautious expression on his face. “How long have you been tailing me?”

“Answer my question first,” she said, seeing a look of annoyance cross Coulson’s face before disappearing.

“People are paranoid, we need to get access without causing too many questions. I can do the work and I’m not someone who will stick out in a person’s mind for very long,” he said casually.

Daisy’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. _Really?_ Because he sure hung out in her mind a lot lately.

“And you’ve had no issues with that so far,” she said instead, and Coulson nodded. Then again, while someone might remember him, their first thought probably wouldn’t be ' _secret agent._ ' It would be _'what do I need to break around the house to get that guy back here?_ '

Noticing how quiet things were she looked up and saw him staring at her. Suddenly Daisy was reminded that this was _Coulson._ He may not have been clean shaven or in a suit, but he was still her friend and mentor and not just some guy she had been secretly ogling for months.

Standing up she crossed the room swiftly, giving him just enough time to take a step away from the wall before she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug. Coulson didn’t waste a second before reciprocating, squeezing her tightly in a way she hadn’t been since...well, since the last time he hugged her. She’d hugged other people since then, but there was just something always different about his embraces.

It made a lot more sense now, after what she’d learned about herself.

_Speaking of which._

“We should stop,” she said, pulling back and panicking slightly at the small hurt look on his face. “I just-- I haven’t-- and _you_ look…” She rambled on for a bit, much to Coulson’s confusion. “Screw it,” Daisy declared, planting her hands on his shoulder and backing him up against the wall. Pressing her body against his she kissed him fiercely, a year (maybe more) of pent up tension and feelings finally breaking free.

Twisting her fingers into the fabric of his shirt--that damn _flannel_ \--she thought briefly that at least he wouldn’t get mad at her for wrinkling his nicer outfits. Just as she felt a little tinge of sadness (she missed the suits,) Coulson firmly pushed her away, hands gripping her shoulders.

“Daisy, _what_ are you doing?”

She frowned, because horror at what she might have just done didn’t set in quite as fast. Coulson was staring at her, and was it just her or was he breathing kind of fast? Realizing she still had the guy nearly pinned against a wall she stepped back, giving him a little room.

Yup, the horror was setting in.

“I’m so sorry,” Daisy said, stepping back further. His hands dropped from her shoulders, and she sat on the arm of the couch, facing him but not looking at him. It was one thing to have her little daydreams and (involuntary but no less...enjoyed) regular dreams, but an entirely different thing to basically maul him while he was working. _This is_ _Coulson,_ she reminded herself.

He leaned back against the wall, watching her warily. “It’s fine,” he said, sounding as unconvincing as she’d ever heard. “I mean, you are? Sorry?"

“Of course,” Daisy said, kind of hurt he would think she might have such a disregard for his feelings. And personal space. “I just--” she sighed, putting her head in her hands. “It’s been a long couple months, and I’ve been _this close_ to seeing you and I just let it get away from me, I guess.” Looking up, she saw Coulson watching her, possibly looking more confused. “I had no right to do that,” she said, quietly, sincerely. “And I shouldn’t have been looking at you like that, I’m sorry, Coulson.”

Phil nodded, taking in what she was saying. His brow furrowed. “Looking at me like what?”

“Um.”

How did she explain?

“In an...objectifying manner?” She shrugged, her face burning.

Phil made some odd sound, almost like a snort. “Yeah, okay,” he scoffed, shaking his head. Daisy just stared, eyebrows raised. The snarky smile fell off his face. “Wait, seriously?”

“Coulson I just-- _attacked_ you,” Daisy pointed out incredulously. Did he already block that out of his brain or something?

“Yes, but Daisy, you’ve been on your own for a long time, that must have been difficult.” He sounded so understanding, but he was _so_ off the mark. “That wasn’t about _me_ ,” he said, sounding less sure. “Was it?”

Daisy stared at his tool belt. “It was definitely about you,” she said wryly. It wasn't just the outfit, although the different visual context had an odd way of helping her separate 'friend/mentor/boss' Coulson and 'friend/attractive male/desirable option' Coulson. That said, she still wanted all of the above. Except maybe the boss thing. She figured he would be amenable to that. “Does that like, bother you? I can just never bring it up again.”

Phil walked over and sat on the couch next to her, looking up at her as she sat perched on the arm. “No,” he said, sounding kind of surprised. “It doesn’t bother me.”

 

***

 

Phil looked in his rear view mirror and groaned. “Seriously?” Despite him willing them to the flashing lights did not disappear, so he pulled over. Was this one of Talbot’s tricks, since he’d refused to cooperate that morning? It was an official-looking SUV, whoever pulled him over either had no clue or knew exactly who he was. Phil took out his identification and rolled down his window.

 _I don’t need this,_ he thought, rubbing a hand over his face as he felt a headache coming on. It had been a long day, all he wanted to do was go home and pass out. Maybe watch a movie.

“Do you know why I pulled you over, sir?”

Phil’s head shot up.

“What?”

Sure enough, there she was. Full police uniform (maybe missing a few elements,) even a pair of aviators over her eyes. At 10 pm. “Daisy what the _hell_ are you doing?”

“Answer the question please, sir,” she said, shining a flashlight in the car. The beam of light traveled around the interior before landing on his lap, and he smacked her hand away.

“Cut it out,” he said, blushing. Daisy laughed, tilting her sunglasses down on her nose.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. She somehow still managed to look authoritative, even though she was clearly messing with him. Phil didn’t hate it.

But this part, he wasn’t so good at.

“I was going too fast?” He asked dryly, and saw Daisy’s lips quirk up in amusement before assuming their serious set once again.

“That is definitely not your problem,” she said, leaning down and kissing him, tugging at the back of his head so she didn’t have to lean in the window too far. Phil obliged as much as he could without unbuckling his seatbelt, opening his mouth under hers, letting the unexpected adrenaline do its work. “Hold on,” she said, taking off her sunglasses and putting them on top of her head before grabbing him by the collar. “I couldn’t see a thing,” she murmured against the side of his mouth, smiling before sliding her lips over his in another heated kiss.

He really didn’t hate it.

Daisy pulled back after a bit, raising an eyebrow at his disappointed sigh. Okay, maybe it was a little pathetic. He’d seen her yesterday as well, there was not as much need for melodrama these days. Finding time to be together certainly wasn’t easy, but it was at least easier. Daisy assumed her official stance again, standing up straight, wiping an imaginary smudge from her badge. “No, I think--”

“Daisy,” Phil interrupted suddenly. “Where did you get that uniform?” Daisy gave him a sly look, doing a spin to show it off.

“You like it?”

Phil stared her down. “Daisy. Where did you get the uniform and the _car_ you just pulled me over with?” He asked, looking at said car in his rear view mirror. “The remarkably realistic police car?”

“Oh, that’s real,” she said, looking back at it proudly. As if on cue, sirens sounded in the distance. “Yeah, probably should have figured that would happen. Roll this down a bit more?” She asked, before reaching in his window and hitting the button herself. Once it was properly down (and the sirens were getting even closer) she took off her sunglasses and tossed them into the passenger seat.

“Daisy, what--” His question was answer as she began to climb in through the window. “Use the _door,_ ” Phil argued, raising his hands up and out of her way. Daisy grabbed his thigh and used it to pull herself through.

“A little help?” She said, strained. Phil sighed, but could see lights flashing in the distance so he helped pull her in the rest of the way. “Good, step on it,” she said, her head over on the passenger side, her knees on the center console, her butt right in his face. “Phil, _go_ ,” she urged, and he reached over her legs to grab the steering wheel and peel out of there.

“Jesus,” he muttered. What a mess. Swatting at her ass to get it away from his face (also, _what_ were those pants?) Phil sped down the road, trying to figure out a route where he could lose them. Daisy crawled fully into the passenger seat, finally righting herself.

“Oh come on, you love it,” she said, turning to look in the rear window. So far they didn’t have a visible following, but that didn’t mean much.

“You’re right, I love committing felonies for foreplay,” he muttered, taking a sharp right into a side street.

“Really?” Daisy asked, watching him. “The uniform does nothing for you?” Phil looked over and shrugged.

“Nothing's wrong with it, apart from the whole  _being stolen_ ,” he said. Frankly, Daisy looked amazing in anything she wore, even a police uniform with moderately ill-fitting pants. But to be honest it was more the authoritative tone Daisy had in it that _did something_ for him than the outfit itself. Apparently the visual aspect was more her thing, which was fine with him. He may not have understood it, her baffling yet flattering interest in him wearing _outfits_ , but Phil was happy to oblige her in that department. For special occasions.

"You look fantastic," he told her, worried his lukewarm reaction might give her the wrong idea. "Just please don't feel like you need to commit federal crimes to get me interested," he urged, placing a hand on her warm knee as they continued to gain distance from their pursuers. How was he going to explain this one away if Talbot got wind? He loved Daisy's enthusiasm, but this one might have been just too much. 

“I took the handcuffs too,” she said enticingly, "official police issue." Phil heard the light jangling of the metal next to him in the passenger seat, giving him goosebumps even in the warm SUV. He took a sharp turn, speeding up a bit.

“Changed my mind.” 


End file.
